NOT MAGIC

silent moment of almost wonder,
not magic
but magnificent
like THIS-


epic months
of tension drugged out my soft back now
i'm 
sat in the corner window
where
hyacinth blooms clear as bbc blu-ray,
its sweet funk brand new
and 
a
row of old records rest against chipped moroccan red paint
and 
outside
winter sun makes evergreens gold under blue
between rain 
and 
all the light shades of grey move in the wind 
like 
ships or visiting kings.


all the things i know are happening 
that i dont understand
and havent touched
are ok this sunday - berries in the seasons
or
washing hung out and drying patient
in pm front rooms
with 
the dusty tv off where cushions rest 
untroubled
about 
how
saturday 
left
them.